


Uriel's Prank

by Miah_Arthur



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Blood and Gore, Disfigurement, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Heaven, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, threatened amputation, wing whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: One of Uriel's mean-spirited pranks goes awry, leading to horrific consequences for himself and causing irreparable harm to young Samael.
Relationships: God & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Goddess (Lucifer TV) & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar & Uriel (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 115





	Uriel's Prank

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta Hircine_Taoist!
> 
> This is a little piece I wrote for a large group project. Hopefully more pieces will posted in the future.

# Uriel's Prank

A massive roar shook the room. 

Samael jolted from slumber. The very air felt wrong. Even partially sleep addled, he knew that roar. The Leviathan. One of Father's _larger_ rejects. 

It had taken him weeks to find the beast's weak points and subdue it. When at last he had stood over it, dripping blood, drenched in the beast's ichor, near collapse, but ready to strike the final blow and send the creature to oblivion, Father had stopped him. 

"Why?" had tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. The response was instant and left him prostrate, begging forgiveness for his impertinence. The Leviathan was gone when he regained control of himself, but he had seen it in the central tower of the Silver City, tiny and impotent in a tank, part of Father's private menagerie. 

Another roar. This time items fell to the floor from Samael's table. He leapt up and began preparing himself to fight the monster again. This time he knew its weaknesses, but even then this would not be an easy battle.

_URIEL. SAMAEL._

Father's call reverberated through Samael from the tips of his wings to the tips of his fingers. He jammed his helmet onto his head, grabbed his sword belt and flew to the tower. The destruction was massive. The tower itself was damaged from the beast's escape. Housing and workshops had been leveled in a swath between the tower and the edge of the Silver City. Samael could just make out the leviathan's tail disappearing into distant space. He could catch it if he gave chase now, but he must obey the summons to the tower. Uriel was not yet at the great doors when he arrived, so he took the time to buckle his sword belt and adjust the rest of his armor. 

Uriel fluttered to a landing next to him, wearing only his robes and carrying no weapon. He schooled his features quickly, but not before Samael saw the smirk. Of course this was his work. Wasn't it always? This was too big for Amenadiel to take the blame for Uriel this time. Poor, dull, Meni would _never_ consider something like this, and everyone knew it. Uriel confidently opened the doors and strode in. Samael fell into place a step behind him. 

A soft sound caught Samael's attention and he risked a glance. Azrael cowered against the wall, quivering in supplication. Her wings hung limply from her back. She was _diminished_ , her grace dimmed as she silently prayed for forgiveness. Samael swallowed his anger. Azrael could never deserve this. Uriel deserved punishment for targeting his favorite sister, but it would have to come after Father was finished with them. Samael dropped to his knees a moment behind Uriel to await Father's proclamation. 

They felt the voice as much as heard it. _"Uriel, you have caused the Leviathan to be unleashed upon creation. You will now end its existence."_

Samael's glee upon hearing that Uriel would be held accountable for once dropped like a stone into his stomach. Uriel—small, weak Uriel, the perpetual clerk—would not fair well against the beast. More than that, though, was knowing what it meant to end the existence of a piece of creation. No matter that he was doing Father's work, every assignment to end a life widened the shadow within him. The shadow that existed only in him. None of his siblings, not even Uriel had a hint of it. Their souls were clean, remained pure. Even seeing the state of Azrael couldn't make him wish this wrongness on one of his brethren. 

He pressed his head to the floor, his arms outstretched, palms to the floor. "Father?"

"What is it, Samael?" The voice projected a lack of patience that Samael rarely heard directed at him. 

"Father, please allow me to despatch the beast. Uriel is ill-suited to this task."

Father's attention fell heavily on him long enough for fear to overtake Samael, but finally Father said, "Very well, Samael, if this is your _judgment_ , then go, annihilate the Leviathan. Return here without delay when you have accomplished this task you have taken upon yourself." 

The divine pressure passed away from him, and Samael breathed a little easier. "Uriel. You will remain there until Samael finishes your task. Rise Samael. Take your sister to her rooms before you hunt the beast. She has been dealt with."

Samael stood, leaving his head bowed and backed away to Azrael. He scooped her up in his arms and backed out of the throne room. Flying her to her room, he laid her gently in her bed. She wouldn't look at him and made no sound, not even daring to sob. Tears clouded his vision as he stripped her down to her soft tunic and trousers, and tucked her nearly lifeless wings comfortably around her. He drew the covers over her and kissed her on the forehead. 

She finally spoke, a pitiful heartfelt explanation. She had only felt sorry for the beast. Uriel had asked her if her purpose was not to care for the creatures Father kept and pointed to the tiny beast she had never before noticed. Once she had focused on the beast she could sense its despair and hunger; thinking she was doing Father's work, she had fed it. Samael squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead again as she renewed her silent pleas that she had no cause to be uttering. Uriel would pay when he returned. 

Samael stopped to collect a travel pack and the javelins he'd need to slow the beast. Anuriel was on duty, and he asked her to make sure that someone took care of Azrael while he was gone. Anuriel had a large heart, and he knew she would risk being near Azrael to keep her from self-deprivation, even if many others would not. 

It took six days to bring the beast down and another ten to clean up the mess it had wrought upon creation. He had taken a vicious clawing across his front and his armor hung on him tattered and stained with blood. His wings were weighted down with ichor and wrenched at his muscles with every wing beat. He gratefully touched down just outside the gates. He knew attending to himself before appearing in the throne room would be too much delay, but the thought of more flying sent a shudder through him. He would risk walking. 

He grimaced at the looks he got from brothers and sisters in their pristinely clean—soul and body—state as he trudged toward the central tower. They rarely caught sight of anything less than perfection. Part of him hated being the one bearing witness to the nastier side of creation and part, the secret shadowy part, reveled in it.

Samael noted that there was no remaining sign of the beast's escape. Soon he was standing before the throne room doors, futilely smoothing his clothes before giving it up and entering. Uriel was exactly where he had been when Samael had left sixteen days ago. Occasional tremors ran through Uriel's wings. Had Father really forced him to stay in that pose the entire time? An image of Azrael huddled in her bed begging forgiveness passed through his mind, and it gladdened him that Uriel had suffered while he was gone. Samael stiffly lowered himself to his knees. He wanted nothing more than to take a bath, get a hot meal, and sleep for days, and he hoped this would soon be over. 

When he felt Father's attention rest on him, he said, "The Leviathan is no more, my Lord."

_"Indeed. Now, the time has come for Uriel to be dealt with. Take him to the arena and clip his wings, if you judge him worthy of mercy."_

Samael glanced at Uriel who had begun to shake. "I-I don't understand, my Lord."

 _"You judged Uriel ill-suited to the task I set him. A purposeless vessel needs not wings. If you deem him worthy of mercy, clip them. If not, I will remove my divinity from him."_

Uriel keened and shook harder. Samael froze. Clip his brother's wings? He was angry at Uriel, but he never wanted to truly hurt him. He…. he _couldn't_ do that. Could he? 

Father's hand moved.

Samael collapsed to the floor, his helmet slamming into the stone, echoing in the recesses of the throne room. "Please, Father, mercy. Mercy! Don't take Uriel's wings. I will do as you command. They will be clipped!"

_"I command nothing in this, Samael. It is you who judged Uriel unworthy of his purpose. It is you who can choose to abase your brother today. Is that the choice you make, Samael?"_

Samael swallowed the bile trying to force its way from his mouth. Tears dripped unbidden to the floor. "Yes, my Lord. I make that choice."

_"Very well, carry out your mercy, my son. Or do you waver in your task?"_

"I do not waver my Lord. I go now." Samael scrambled to his feet. 

Uriel did not move beyond great shuddering breaths. If he had truly been there without respite all this time, Samael would have to move him. He didn't dare offer comfort, even as Uriel's joints creaked and he cried out at blood rushing back into extremities. Samael pulled him to his feet. Uriel made no move to hold his own weight, attempting to curl in on himself. Samael shook him roughly.

"Have dignity, brother. Fl—" Samael's throat closed around the word, but he shoved it past his lips. "Fly to the arena, Uriel. Feel them whole. Remember it."

Uriel nodded and flapped his wings a few times, before taking to the air. Samael followed, his fatigue and pain lost to the horror of what he was about to do. Uriel landed in the center of the arena, his knees folding under him, so that he knelt upright, wings splayed to his sides. His eyes locked onto the central tower, and his lips moved in what Samael thought might be one of the hymns praising their Father. Samael glided to a stop near the weapons. He wanted the cleanest possible cut when he-he— 

He fell to his knees and vomited, stomach clenching long after everything had been expelled. 

Samael dragged himself to his feet. It was cruel to force Uriel to wait. He selected two of the sharpest blades, and steeled himself for what he must do. The ground rumbled and pillars erupted on either side of Uriel. Beams extended out and the knowledge of how to use the restraints dangling from them to immobilize Uriel's wings forced its way into his mind. He swallowed and began by cuffing Uriel's wrists. The chains were the perfect length to force Uriel into a kneeling orans position.

_BEAR WITNESS_

Father's command filled the arena with angels anxious at being pulled from their normal duties. Muttering, gasps, and a general miasma of dread spread over the crowd as Samael slowly drew Uriel's wings out to their fullest expanse and locked them into place. When Samael had finished restraining Uriel, he stepped forward. Dressed in battle damaged and bloodied armor, wings and body coated with grime and demonic ichor, Samael spread his arms and said, "I have chosen Uriel's punishment for his role in releasing the Leviathan. Bear witness as I fulfill it." He examined the faces of the host and saw disgust, disbelief, anger, fear, even jealousy. To those that never left the city, he probably looked more demon than angel. 

He looked away. He had wrought this. _Chosen_ this. Now he had to complete this lest their Father lose patience.

He turned to Uriel. He didn't dare ask forgiveness for what he was about to do. He gripped the back of Uriel's neck and brought their foreheads together, even then Uriel's gaze fixed in the direction of their Father. "I am sorry, brother. I did not intend this to happen. I cannot be gentle, but I will endeavor to be quick." 

"I don't need your pity, _Samael_. Do it." 

Uriel's eyes remained locked on the tower, his mouth again moving in a silent hymn, as Samael took up a blade. Father's focus fell on Samael with the intensity of a thousand suns, and Samael put the blade to the first primary feather on Uriel's right wing. Fully outstretched, Uriel couldn't tense the feathers and make them weapons. The blade sliced cleanly, and the first feather fell slowly to the ground. The host was silent. 

Uriel groaned, but resumed silently chanting. Samael choked back a sob. The golden ichor was warm on his fingertips as he pressed the sword along the edge of the remaining primaries, iridescent with the foreknowledge that was his brother's charge. He would be diminished, only Father knew how long. Only Father knew when his wings would be serviceable again, when flight would be possible. When his purpose would be fulfillable again. Uriel hung limp by his wrists, panting through the pain as the feathers hit the ground. Divinity dripped out of him steadily. Samael moved to the other wing. Uriel moaned as Samael forced the blade to take them all in one stroke. The wings grew dull. 

Surely this was enough for Father. Uriel would not fly until the feathers grew back. Samael dropped the blade, and rushed to retrieve the salve that would stop the bleeding. Before he took three steps, he saw an image of Father standing from his throne, displeased. Samael took up the other blade and held it to the coverts. The sense of displeasure lessened. Tears trailed down Samael's face as cut through feathers that he knew were filled with blood. 

Finally, Uriel screamed. Red blood joined the golden ichor. Samael had made his choice; he did not waver. The alternative was far worse. And so he ignored it. The blood, the screams... all of it. This was his choice. He made this judgement. This was his fault. He never wavered. 

Uriel had stopped screaming. 

His wings were ravaged. Samael tried to lift the sword again, but it dropped to the ground. He collapsed to his knees and finally, finally Father's countenance left him. 

"Help," he whispered. "Help. Help him." His voice rose with each word. "Raphael, anyone!"

The host exploded in a hive of activity. Michael grabbed the back of Samael's armor and tossed him to the side. Samael remained where he landed, watching the others treat the wounds he created with numb detachment. He remained after the others had left, lacking the energy and will to move himself and knowing he deserved no assistance after what he had done. 

The ground under the pillars glowed with spilled divinity as darkness fell.

Jegudiel retrieved him. Stood him on his feet. Led him to the house of healing. Cleaned him up. Made him eat and drink. Led him to his room. Put him to bed. Told him, just before he left, that Uriel would survive.

Samael had nothing left with which to grieve what he had become. He turned his face to the wall and willed himself away.

* * *

Fingers carding through his hair brought Samael back. He didn't know how long he had lain there. He felt hollow inside. His body ached and he had no strength when he rolled to face his Mother. She smiled, but her eyes were damp and reddened. _Uriel_. He closed his eyes, the afterimage of divinity glowing on the arena ground burned into his mind. 

"Samael." 

"Mother." His voice creaked from disuse. His hand shook when he reached for her.

She easily pulled him into her lap, wrapping her arms around him and pressing him to her chest. "I was so concerned when you didn't attend convocation these last days," she crooned.

He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve comfort after he had-had— "What have I done?"

"Shh, my son. My poor stubborn Uriel could never have slain that beast. He's not as strong as you, my lightbringer. You saved Uriel that burden and you saved his wings."

"I-I butchered them, Mother. So much blood. I-I didn't know when I could stop. I kept cutting him, but what if Father would have," his voice cracked over unshed tears, "been satisfied with less?"

She pulled him away from her and cupped his face in her hands, fingers smoothing over the still healing gash on his cheek. "No, son, you couldn't. I stood by your father and pleaded with him to allow you to stop. I stayed his hand when you tried to stop at the primaries. You mustn't blame yourself for the amount of damage, Samael." The pressure of her gaze bored deep into his mind. "And you mustn't grieve that. No more tears. No more hiding within yourself."

He put his hand over Mother's, wishing for her touch to remain forever, but knowing he could never deserve it. "I chose, Mother, chose to clip his wings. It was my judgement that condemned Uriel."

Mother jerked her hands away, startling Samael at the alacrity. Of course. How could she stand to touch him?

She shook her head, and said with a voice that ground at the bones of his skull. "No! Your _Father_ made you believe you had a choice. What choice did you have? To do nothing while Uriel's wings were taken forever? To let him be condemned to crawl in the mud of _Creation_?" She clasped his arm in a crushing grip, pulling him in until their faces almost touched. "Those are not _choices_ my son. Your Father called _both_ of you to the throne room." She gave him a shake. "Did you not consider why?"

Samael's words failed him. He… He had interfered with Father's judgment. His reasons didn't matter. He could have protected Uriel on the hunt, kept him from making the killing blow. The sword belonged to him, not Uriel. Of course Father couldn't let that go unpunished, nor could he let Uriel go unpunished. Horror dragged at the frayed edges of him. 

Mother brushed her other hand gently over his cheek again. "Now you see. There is always another way. I love you Samael. You are my lightbringer, my favorite son, but I love _all_ my children, and you almost cost our family Uriel. You mustn't upset your father." Her grasp on his cheek dug in, bruising tight. "You will _never_ question him like that again. Do you understand?"

Samael kept the pain she was causing from his expression and nodded with all the earnestness he had in him. 

She held him transfixed for a long moment before she relaxed. He swallowed, testing his jaw, before giving her a tentative smile. 

She beamed at him. "There! No more worries!" With a practiced eye, she glanced over his bare chest and up to the gash on his cheek. "Oh son, that monster was such a hard job, wasn't it? Come here. Mother will make it better." She pulled him back against her chest, running her hands over the still healing bruises and fading wounds from his battle. Her light suffused through him soothing aches and worries, filling the hollowness with a sense of warmth. 

It didn't touch the ache in his arm and jaw from her too tight grasp.


End file.
